Katya landed back on the first floor with a frustrated - albeit ladylike - grunt, unceremoniously tossed after losing - losing! - to one of those wanna-be gangsters. Ha! Enforcers. Did it strike no one else as odd - or even cheap - that those losers had modeled their quite frankly amateur operations on her one-time empire? The tall Killer gritted her teeth with a fresh growl and immediately dusted off, then stalked away in search of her next victim. Offing more of those cretins was one of very few things that would take the sting out of the rare loss, and so, she swung her sword and fired her pretty firearm until she was heaving with unneeded breaths whistling through gritted teeth. The outlet for her rage had worked, somewhat, and she was soon enough spent. But that didn't quite stop her from wandering some and seeing who she might bump into here; no. There was no shortage of interesting people out and about in these raids and finding those she considered friend or acquaintance to while away some time was often a good respite between all the bloodshed.
The blonde turned one of those blind corners as she slowly sauntered down the narrow hall, taking her time to look around and really see people now that her own carnage had come to a halt - for the time being, anyway - and she could pay better attention to those around her. And pay attention she did.
Her brow furrowed deeply as her aqua-blue gaze narrowed at a figure across the way. It was him - that guy who had busted into one of her apartments and sparked the predator inside into action. No matter whether she hired someone to help her locate him or at least learn her name, it was a hunt all the same. And no amount of decorum had stopped her from chucking his picture up on Crownet, either. If it was a human, he'd be on the radar of other vampires. And if not, well, she'd probably have a better chance of finding out who he was on her own. After all, their population was significantly smaller than the humans around here, and almost every single one of them seemed somehow connected, even with the silencing of the Crow.
As she sauntered closer, the sheer, predatory glee at finding her prey without much doing wiping away the remaining sting of loss and honing her focus, she soon enough could tell with ease that he was, in fact, mortal. Warmth. Scent. The sound of a heartbeat. She circled him slowly, then leaned in with a telling smirk.
"You and I need to have some words, Human. Call me sometime." She slipped a piece of paper with her number on it into a pocket and, before she could so much as change her mind, she had him in her grip and her fangs had sunk deep into his throat. She snickered after she had drained enough from him to sate her and watched his disorientation take him elsewhere, though she was hopeful he would remember her words. Normally, Katya left what mortals she saw alone; as long as they weren't in her face or attacking her, she didn't have much reason to care if they'd stumbled on a raid and wanted in on some fun... or whatever. But this guy... he had pissed her off with his little stunt with her property and this was the first move in the chess match she intended to have with him. A cat playing with her mouse... amusing and designed to force his next move. Though not too much, of course. If he proved intriguing, she would want to draw out the game for as long as possible.
A merry little wave was given before she turned and strode off in search of something - or someone - else to occupy the rest of her time.
Crossing Lines [Hunter]
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Yekaterina Ostrovsky
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Hunter (DELETED 2392)
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Re: Crossing Lines [Hunter]
“Sir. Are you ok?”
Hunter frowned at the man in front of him, his focus on the man’s moustache; trimmed and neat, brown with intermittent streaks of greyish white.
“Do you need a doctor?”
Hunter’s eyes travelled upward to two blue eyes peering out under two smaller moustaches – which he later identified as being eyebrows. His eyes then began to wander, albeit slowly and unsteadily around the man’s head, but the world beyond him was blurred and dark.
“Young man…”
Hunter felt warm pressure being applied to his arm and he looked down to see the gloved hand had secured a firm grip.
“I’m ok!” Hunter said at last, struggling from the older gentleman’s grasp. The man put up no resistance and let him go.
Hunter continued to stroll another half a yard, but at least now he was aware that he was walking. Still, not being aware of why, Hunter found a bench and took a seat. Despite the short-term amnesia, there was familiarity with this sensation and Hunter arched over to cradle his head in both palms. Since he didn’t drink alcohol or take any kind of drug, and the last thing he remembered was shooting up some gangsters in a warehouse surrounded by the undead, Hunter was sure that this was just another case of a walk-by-biting. There was something weird about the way Vampires fed, Hunter thought. They hypnotised you, drained you and left you walking light-headed and although unaware of the specific events, you knew something had happened. Those little puncture marks had to have come from somewhere!
Hunter growled into his hands, the hot air pressing into his cold face making him feel even worse. He sat back and began to rub his neck; the ache that ran down his shoulder from the bite wound wasn’t something he could ignore easily. He always spat an angry vow to make the ****** who bit him pay, but that was impossible. How could you make an unidentified person pay for something you can only explain with assumptions? Besides, he couldn’t bring a plague down upon them all could he. Forget the fact that he didn’t know how many there were and he was in no way, shape or form a one-manned army, but there was also the nagging matter of ethics to consider. Like Humans, not all Vampires were bad. His father wasn’t… Was he?
Letting his hands fall back to his sides, Hunter decided to just get up and get on with his life. He had a lot of ‘cleansing’ to perform still and he was determined to make it back to that hive of gangsters. Getting up, Hunter pointed himself back in the direction of the building and started off, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket as he did so. By the third step, Hunter felt something scratch against his hand like he’d left a receipt in his pocket and had just forgotten about it. He picked out the scrap of paper, giving it a quick glance as he advanced toward the nearest trash can. He was about to dump it when he recognised the pattern of scrawled numbers made out a phone number.
“What the hell?”
Who’d given him this and for what purpose? Hunter glanced around himself for a phone booth, not to mention any possible watchers. When he found what he’d been searching for, however, Hunter stayed put. Would it really be worth stirring murky waters just for his curiosity? This could have been a trap, but then, it could also have been a helping hand. Throwing hesitation clear aside, Hunter stomped toward the phone booth, stepped inside and angrily dialled the number. The connecting chirp was almost deafening in his ears and made him feel even dizzier than earlier, but he was determined to hang on and wait for the person to answer. At which point, Hunter let out a controlled voice.
“Hello?”
Hunter frowned at the man in front of him, his focus on the man’s moustache; trimmed and neat, brown with intermittent streaks of greyish white.
“Do you need a doctor?”
Hunter’s eyes travelled upward to two blue eyes peering out under two smaller moustaches – which he later identified as being eyebrows. His eyes then began to wander, albeit slowly and unsteadily around the man’s head, but the world beyond him was blurred and dark.
“Young man…”
Hunter felt warm pressure being applied to his arm and he looked down to see the gloved hand had secured a firm grip.
“I’m ok!” Hunter said at last, struggling from the older gentleman’s grasp. The man put up no resistance and let him go.
Hunter continued to stroll another half a yard, but at least now he was aware that he was walking. Still, not being aware of why, Hunter found a bench and took a seat. Despite the short-term amnesia, there was familiarity with this sensation and Hunter arched over to cradle his head in both palms. Since he didn’t drink alcohol or take any kind of drug, and the last thing he remembered was shooting up some gangsters in a warehouse surrounded by the undead, Hunter was sure that this was just another case of a walk-by-biting. There was something weird about the way Vampires fed, Hunter thought. They hypnotised you, drained you and left you walking light-headed and although unaware of the specific events, you knew something had happened. Those little puncture marks had to have come from somewhere!
Hunter growled into his hands, the hot air pressing into his cold face making him feel even worse. He sat back and began to rub his neck; the ache that ran down his shoulder from the bite wound wasn’t something he could ignore easily. He always spat an angry vow to make the ****** who bit him pay, but that was impossible. How could you make an unidentified person pay for something you can only explain with assumptions? Besides, he couldn’t bring a plague down upon them all could he. Forget the fact that he didn’t know how many there were and he was in no way, shape or form a one-manned army, but there was also the nagging matter of ethics to consider. Like Humans, not all Vampires were bad. His father wasn’t… Was he?
Letting his hands fall back to his sides, Hunter decided to just get up and get on with his life. He had a lot of ‘cleansing’ to perform still and he was determined to make it back to that hive of gangsters. Getting up, Hunter pointed himself back in the direction of the building and started off, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket as he did so. By the third step, Hunter felt something scratch against his hand like he’d left a receipt in his pocket and had just forgotten about it. He picked out the scrap of paper, giving it a quick glance as he advanced toward the nearest trash can. He was about to dump it when he recognised the pattern of scrawled numbers made out a phone number.
“What the hell?”
Who’d given him this and for what purpose? Hunter glanced around himself for a phone booth, not to mention any possible watchers. When he found what he’d been searching for, however, Hunter stayed put. Would it really be worth stirring murky waters just for his curiosity? This could have been a trap, but then, it could also have been a helping hand. Throwing hesitation clear aside, Hunter stomped toward the phone booth, stepped inside and angrily dialled the number. The connecting chirp was almost deafening in his ears and made him feel even dizzier than earlier, but he was determined to hang on and wait for the person to answer. At which point, Hunter let out a controlled voice.
“Hello?”
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Yekaterina Ostrovsky
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Re: Crossing Lines [Hunter]
The cell phone she'd picked up for just this purpose - what they called a burner phone - had not left her sight since she'd sent the human intruder on his way. It was inevitable that she would locate him at some point and so, he was the only one to whom she'd given the number. Finding little to occupy her save a quick look at a new property, the phone hadn't left her person on her wanderings and now that she was showered, changed into something delicate and comfortable, and relaxing until she inevitably decided to sleep, it sat beside her on the end table, next to her regular cell.
And there it rang, far sooner than she'd anticipated. At first, she thought she might be mistaken, imagining - even though Katya wasn't one to give over to imagination unless she was killing something or enjoying other very particular activities - but sure enough. The shrill sounding tone had been turned down low, though she'd never be able to miss the buzz of the small device against the wooden table, not with delicate, preternatural hearing. A slow smile slid over her lips. It could only be him, unless the scrap of paper had someone fallen into other clutches. Either way, it didn't faze her much.
Oh but this was going to be fun.
She let it ring a time or two more before she plucked it up, hit the screen, and answered, her cool voice slightly husky, with the barest hint of an accent.
"This is Yekaterina. Now who might you be?"
And there it rang, far sooner than she'd anticipated. At first, she thought she might be mistaken, imagining - even though Katya wasn't one to give over to imagination unless she was killing something or enjoying other very particular activities - but sure enough. The shrill sounding tone had been turned down low, though she'd never be able to miss the buzz of the small device against the wooden table, not with delicate, preternatural hearing. A slow smile slid over her lips. It could only be him, unless the scrap of paper had someone fallen into other clutches. Either way, it didn't faze her much.
Oh but this was going to be fun.
She let it ring a time or two more before she plucked it up, hit the screen, and answered, her cool voice slightly husky, with the barest hint of an accent.
"This is Yekaterina. Now who might you be?"
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Hunter (DELETED 2392)
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- Joined: 13 Mar 2012, 09:50
Re: Crossing Lines [Hunter]
Hunter had considered forming some elaborate excuse for calling the number, some phony fish for information like he was a salesperson, but since he didn’t know who he was dealing with, he inevitably decided against those tactics. He was going to be straight with this person so nothing could be used against him later. Whether that was a smart decision or not remained to be seen.
When the call was answered and the person spoke their name, Hunter thought for a moment that their connection had failed a little because the name she’d given didn’t seem right. There seemed like a few too many syllables, like maybe her name had been hashed together from an indistinguishable fault in the line. Nevertheless, he gave the woman a straight answer.
“Hunter. I have your phone number and well,” he mumbled, scratching his neck and falling into a kind of foolhardy charm. “Well, this is a little embarrassing, but I don’t remember where I got this number. Who did you say you were again?”
When the call was answered and the person spoke their name, Hunter thought for a moment that their connection had failed a little because the name she’d given didn’t seem right. There seemed like a few too many syllables, like maybe her name had been hashed together from an indistinguishable fault in the line. Nevertheless, he gave the woman a straight answer.
“Hunter. I have your phone number and well,” he mumbled, scratching his neck and falling into a kind of foolhardy charm. “Well, this is a little embarrassing, but I don’t remember where I got this number. Who did you say you were again?”
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Yekaterina Ostrovsky
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Re: Crossing Lines [Hunter]
Hunter. Katya didn't know whether to be disappointed he had given it up so soon rather than playing her game, or if she should laugh at the irony as she rolled the name around in her head. If he was even giving her a real name in the first place, that was.
"Well hello there, Hunter," she practically purred into the phone, the delighted, predatory smile almost audible in her tone as she pointedly ignored the question over her name. She tutted softly. "There is no need to be embarrassed about that... memories are faulty things in this little city of ours. But the thing you actually ought to be embarrassed about... well. We should probably speak in person. Telephones are so... impersonal, don't you agree?"
The smile stayed firmly put as she awaited the response; the Killer was already having fun. Toying with her prey was usually so much more interesting when they played hard to get, but even this had her tenuous attention caught - for now. Even if he didn't actually agree to meet with her, she knew his name - fake or not, it was something - and his face now. Hunting him down again wouldn't be such a task next time.
"Well hello there, Hunter," she practically purred into the phone, the delighted, predatory smile almost audible in her tone as she pointedly ignored the question over her name. She tutted softly. "There is no need to be embarrassed about that... memories are faulty things in this little city of ours. But the thing you actually ought to be embarrassed about... well. We should probably speak in person. Telephones are so... impersonal, don't you agree?"
The smile stayed firmly put as she awaited the response; the Killer was already having fun. Toying with her prey was usually so much more interesting when they played hard to get, but even this had her tenuous attention caught - for now. Even if he didn't actually agree to meet with her, she knew his name - fake or not, it was something - and his face now. Hunting him down again wouldn't be such a task next time.
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Hunter (DELETED 2392)
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- Joined: 13 Mar 2012, 09:50
Re: Crossing Lines [Hunter]
Hunter’s brow wrinkled at her words. He didn’t like the tone very much either. He considered hanging up immediately, but if she was a Vampire, as he immediately began to suspect, that would only anger her further. Hunter had had a fair few run-ins with angry Vampires and apparently he had done something to annoy this one since she seemed to have some kind of vendetta against him. She must have been a Vampire because ordinary people didn’t wear that aggressive, holier-than-though attitude unless they were sitting behind a computer screen. Vampires had power, far more than your average person, so of course that meant that any disagreement was to be resolved to suit them – with violence. They were little more than school yard bullies in Hunter’s mind, which is why his grip on the telephone receiver tightened.
“Well, yeah,” he said flatly to agree with her comment about telephones being so impersonal. “But sometimes that personal touch can be… overkill. I’ve got you on the phone right now so I’m quite happy to talk about it now. If you’re busy though, I’ll just call back. It’s no problem.”
He talked to her like he was somebody’s personal assistant – that no-nonsense tone, the brisk pace suggesting you’d better get what you want across now because I’m too busy to deal with your bullcrap.
“Well, yeah,” he said flatly to agree with her comment about telephones being so impersonal. “But sometimes that personal touch can be… overkill. I’ve got you on the phone right now so I’m quite happy to talk about it now. If you’re busy though, I’ll just call back. It’s no problem.”
He talked to her like he was somebody’s personal assistant – that no-nonsense tone, the brisk pace suggesting you’d better get what you want across now because I’m too busy to deal with your bullcrap.
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Yekaterina Ostrovsky
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Re: Crossing Lines [Hunter]
Katya could only give a soft laugh at the reply. Ballsy, but then she supposed he would have to be to try and break into a crypt, knowing or not that it might belong to a stalking bloodsucker, especially being clearly set up as a living space and not what you'd typically find in such a place. After all, who else would live in a crypt? Still, ballsy didn't exactly always mean there was intelligence to go along with it, and she had to wonder if he was lacking in the general sort that made up common sense. He'd set off an alarm, for god's sake. He had to have noticed the security cameras, right? That was the sort of thing that made most people turn tail and run, not stay. She shook her head slightly, not giving into the wave of exasperation that suddenly rose within, with a worrying sort of familiarity.
"You do realize I can track you down any time I like, yes? But a little cooperation can go a very long way, and then that maybe won't be necessary." she said in a clipped, though friendly enough tone. "I like your choice of words, though, Hunter. Overkill. I suppose that's a good enough word for breaking into someone's place... and breaking back out... no?"
The tall blonde sat back in her comfortable chair, long legs crossing high at the slender thighs as one designer heel dangled slightly - just the tiniest hint to any who could see her that she was relaxed, calm... until something might set her off, anyway. One hand casually ran through shoulder-length locks as she picked up a small knife, before twirling it between her fingers.
"You do realize I can track you down any time I like, yes? But a little cooperation can go a very long way, and then that maybe won't be necessary." she said in a clipped, though friendly enough tone. "I like your choice of words, though, Hunter. Overkill. I suppose that's a good enough word for breaking into someone's place... and breaking back out... no?"
The tall blonde sat back in her comfortable chair, long legs crossing high at the slender thighs as one designer heel dangled slightly - just the tiniest hint to any who could see her that she was relaxed, calm... until something might set her off, anyway. One hand casually ran through shoulder-length locks as she picked up a small knife, before twirling it between her fingers.